Captain Zachary Smith had long suspected
he was gay. Still, he could ignore that in the face of his career. He was a
military man--a lifer. Everything was fine until a certain inscrutable FBI
agent trampled all over Zack’s personal Don’t
Ask policy.

Previously published by Torquere
as part of the Going to the Chapel anthology.

Excerpt:

Captain Zachary
Smith bit back a groan when he saw the man seated in front of his colonel’s
desk. It was his nemesis, his secret crush. His face serious and otherwise
expressionless, he did his best to pretend that he was alone in the room,
listening to a recording.

“Rest, Captain,”
barked his commander, Colonel Marshall. Zack dropped his salute to clasp his
hands behind his back, eyes fixed on an invisible point above the colonel’s
head. “Mr. Thayer has need of your services once again,” the senior officer
went on. Zack fought the urge to cringe or to look at the third man.

Federal Agent
Falk Thayer lounged easily in his chair, seemingly unaffected by the scene
playing out in front of him. He’d come in and announced his needs. The ranking
officer had listened and offered him provision. Zack had an emotional price to
pay, but Falk was apparently unmoved by it.

“Captain,”
growled Colonel Marshall, “Federal Agent Thayer will require your cooperation
regarding the Pavarato case.” The older man nodded toward a beige folder
resting on the corner of his desk. “I expect you to assist fully with his
investigation.”

“That will be
all, Captain.” The colonel nodded sharply. “You are excused. Make yourself
available to Agent Thayer,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Zack
affirmed, turning sharply. Without even a quick look toward Falk Thayer, he
left the room.

***

“Coffee,
Penelope, would you please?” Zack asked as he passed his secretary’s desk.

Though she was
an Army sergeant, Penelope Raines preferred not to stand on ceremony.

They’d
been instant friends since their first meeting, and he didn’t doubt that she
knew most of his secrets. He'd told her half of them, and she’d likely guessed
the rest. When others were present, they maintained a formal relationship;
otherwise, they were relaxed with each other.

He strode into
his small office and kicked the door closed behind him. Groaning, he collapsed
into his office chair, his face sinking into his crossed arms resting upon his
desk.

Moments later,
when the door creaked open, he didn’t look up. The scent of strong coffee
tickled his nose telling him that Penelope hadn’t let him down.

“Just put it on
the desk, Pen,” he said into his forearm. “Hey, d’me a f’vr?” he mumbled,
lifting his head a fraction of an inch, “Gimme the Pavarato file ‘n lemme know
when Ag'nt Thayer heads this way.” He dropped his head back into the crook of
his arm, wondering when his luck would improve.

He heard the
sound of the cup landing on his desk, but Penelope didn’t leave. He didn’t stir
for a moment until, after several long seconds, still without looking up, he
mumbled, “Pen? You need something else?”

Zack shot to his
feet, nearly knocking over his chair. Automatically, he snapped to attention,
groaning inside when he realized he’d done it. He heard the other man’s chuckle
and reached for his coffee, nonchalantly taking it from the corner of his desk,
hoping to hide his embarrassment.

“Now, what kind
of a good soldier gets caught unaware like this?” Falk mused, causing a hot
blush to sweep up and burn Zack’s cheeks.

“I, I, um, you…”
he stammered, feeling like a fool. Sucking in a deep breath, he stood up
straight. He was six feet and two inches tall, muscular and attractive, and he
knew how to use it to his best advantage. Why wouldn’t it work on Agent Falk
Thayer? “I wasn’t expecting you to just walk in,” he objected, carefully sipped
at the strong brew.

Zack couldn’t
understand it. Falk Thayer had medium brown hair, medium brown eyes, and
regular features. The other man was easily four inches shorter than he was. How
he could be so unremarkable and so intimidating at the same time, Zack just
didn’t know. But he was.

“Um, yeah,” Zack looked away
and took another deliberate sip of coffee. “Well, what is it you want me
to do?” he asked grudgingly.

These
things—author biographies—always give me trouble. Should I say I’m a single
female over forty? Or would you rather know that I began writing professionally
a bit over a decade ago? It’s safe to say I’m a dreamer. I love learning about
people and exploring emotions. Every story is a journey, sometimes a wild ride,
other times cray trip. Can you tell that I love to travel? I share my home with
two cats and two birds. One of the cats is an aggressive young lady who moved
in downstairs. My middle-aged guy isn’t sure if he wants to run from her or to
her. I’ll let you know if a romance develops there. The birds are taking bets.

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Raine O'Tierney is an M/M romance author who loves celebrating other authors, asking probing questions about dachshunds, and generally supporting the creative process! Plus she thinks hats are worth throwing a party over!